


How to Win a Grant in Three Easy Steps

by AvaKelly



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Art Student Steve, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Sharing a Bed, Undercover, accidental confessions, clint's love for coffee, colds and sniffles, liberal application of soup, professor clint, sentient pillows that turn out to be topless steeb, sleepy mumbling, the flirting game, the lives of grad students
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8176213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaKelly/pseuds/AvaKelly
Summary: Clint has a secret life that he keeps away from his secret agent-assassin life. He's doing research at an out of the way university, a place where he retreats to whenever he needs to recover or relax. It's his home. So when a stray Grant appears at the horizon, Clint takes three accidental steps: he flirts, he catches a cold, and he lets his mouth run off. But hey, at least there's soup.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> For Cai. This is too late in the making. You were one of the first people to speak to me when I started writing, and I'm pretty sure my tumblr wouldn't have survived those first few months without your support. So, thank you! :)  
> ~  
> Many thanks to Cai for the building of this story and Hraf for feedback and proofing.  
> ~  
> Hello everyone o/  
> I don't think there's going to be another Nameless chapter by tomorrow (I'll surely try though, but there's much to work on this weekend). In the meantime, here's some tropey fic. Enjoy!

The day has been sunny on campus, enveloping the busy buildings in a warm glow. Now, as the sun dips toward the horizon, Clint takes a moment to watch the ever changing colors of the sky, from the point where blue bleeds into orange down to a reddish hue right at the edge of the roof lines. It soothes the blue swirling around in his head.

Taking a breather to return here has been the best decision. Here, where he isn't Hawkeye, or Barton, or an ex-carnie. Here, where nobody knows about his military past or his employment as an assassin for SHIELD.

Here, he is just a professor, getting lost in a sea of academia and grad students. Here, Barry Franks, PhD, spends his time researching obscure physics financed by a private fund. He supervises two grad students that are pretty much allowed to research whatever they want. Hey, funding is scarce, so he has some leeway. It also helps he has the finances to fund himself, but what the Dean doesn't know, can't hurt him. Also, last year, the shell corporation that he set up to run his trust received a donation from Stark. Go figure. As a result, Clint helped solve his size issue with the arc reactor, getting from fistful to person-sized, which then helped Tony build one that could power the new Tower in New York.

Most of Clint's pleasure when talking to Tony face to face while Tony insults his intelligence is knowing he solved something Tony couldn't. That's enough for him, even though Nat doesn't agree. But she doesn't push for him to reveal his secret identity either.

Secret identity! Like a superhero in reverse, seeing how the whole world calls the Avengers superheroes. And Hawkeye's an Avenger, isn't he... he's right there in the paperwork.

With a sigh, Clint scratches his head. Maybe he won't be an Avenger anymore if he doesn't return to active duty soon. But he's still not ready to leave.

It's been four months since Loki pulled his brains out, figuratively, and stomped all over them. Clint needs to recover. Here, he knows what he is. Back there, he's the guy that murdered colleagues and almost singlehandedly screwed up the world.

"Barry!"

Clint turns and waves back at Jay. She's the sweetest grad student ever.

_ Ever. _

Kind and passionate, an activist, smart, so very smart, always smiling... and _not_ his own student. She's in sociology, with professor Fartshisname. Clint rolls his eyes at himself. He should stop hanging out with the grads. Really. But then Jay comes around like she does right now and convinces him to join them for a game of darts.

Ok, it's not just Jay's fault. Clint keeps feeding them. All these grads.

Well, not all of them. Just a handful, the ones on scolarships and without other resources. Fine, Clint is at fault. But he likes these kids. Grown-up kids. Eh, semantics. Clint's not that much older than them. It just feels like he is.

"How was your progress meeting today?" Clint asks when Jay is in hearing distance.

"Absolutely and wonderfully abysmal!"

"That bad, huh?"

"He is blatantly disregarding my arguments," Jay says, her forehead scrunching with worry and her curls bouncing around with the breeze. "Why can't I write my thesis with you," she groans.

"Because," Clint lifts two fingers, "I am in physics and once you get free of him, you can have more recognition because he's a big name."

"But is putting up with his shit worth it?"

Clint pats her shoulder with a sigh. He himself is not well known, he made sure of that. And in this small university in the middle of nowhere, only two researchers have high recognition. Dr. Farsel in socio and the painter who revolutionized... something. It slips Clint's mind. However, the uni has a great arts section and an even better socio department. The rest of the fields are there like smaller satellites, which suits Clint great. This way, he can avoid teaching.

"Look, Jelly," Clint says. "You're going to agree on something at some point. Try to understand his perspect-- hey!"

Jay stops moving her hand in a mockery of Clint's speech and just says "Jeeeelly" in a very zombie-like voice. It makes Clint laugh and he pinches the bridge of his nose before moving toward their pub of choice. It's getting chilly outside, the November weather sharper each day.

"Thanks," Jay says as they make their way in.

Clint nods with a smile. They've had this conversation a few times before.

"Ohmigod," she adds as they makes their way to their favorite table in the back, "I totally forgot. Remember that hot new grad from arts? Vic convinced him to come tonight. He's totally older and totally your type."

"How do you know my type?" Clint returns.

"Everybody knows your type. Hot and stubborn with a dash of salt. He is  _ perfect _ ."

"I don't need setting up," Clint says. They've had this conversation many times before, as well.

The table is full when they get there and Clint spots the new guy from a distance even though his back is turned away, his head standing out amongst the others.

"Grant, this is Professor Franks, but we all call him Barry," Jay says.

Tall, then. Soft brown hair. Nat had that color once--

No. He's imagining it. Steve Rogers is definitely not sporting a beard, calling himself Grant, and pretending to be an arts grad.

Nope. Clint is having a stroke. Or choking on his own spit.

Right, no choking, he's a damn trained agent.

"Nice to meet you," Clint says, extending his hand.

The guy, Grant, hesitates for a moment, then shakes. Strong grip. Firm. Clint wonders if he's as firm everywhere. Rogers seems to be firm--Jay elbows him and Clint sits on the wooden bench of the booth, conveniently right next to Grant. Oh, they're all in cahoots. Clint squints his eyes at the five pairs of eyes watching him. Six, if you count Grant, but, next to Clint, the guy seems absorbed by his beer bottle.

"Who wants pizza?" Clint asks.

An unison of 'me' follows and then Sandra pulls out her phone. It's that time of the month when they all run out of groceries, money, and ramen. Buying pizza for them all is the least Clint can do. Which reminds him.

"If two of you volunteer to clean up before and after, I'll provide a barbecue," Clint adds. "Saturday, before it gets too cold."

"Oh _fuck_ yes," Vic moans from the other side. His accent's getting softer. Clint regrets teaching him all those swear words.

"Can we have tofu, too?"

Clint whines.

The conversation descends into grillable items with the usual chaos, but he's happy to have one last barbecue before the weather worsens. After that, he should give Nat a call. See if they need him.

He hopes they don't.

The nightmares have been lessening lately, but he's still waking up in a sweat at least once every few days. Clint is tired. A little lonely, too. Being an assassin for a covert organization doesn't help the development of relationships. That's why he keeps these kids around. They make him feel important in the little ways, like being there when they need to complain about their supervisors, having food at the ready, giving their research ideas a once-over before they start putting things on paper, even though he's outside the subject matter. It helps them. It's not much in the grand scheme of things, but it is something that soothes him, so he'll indulge for as long as he can.

"Do you need help with shopping?" Grant asks under the ruckus. Huh, even his voice sounds like Rogers' and Clint shakes his head. "It's the least I can do, since it seems that you're buying everything. Let me help," he says with a wink.

Clint raises an eyebrow at him. He says 'yes' against his own better knowledge, but the flirting that follows is delicious.

~

The moment Steve lays eyes on Clint, it clicks. Nat sent him here on purpose. He isn't sure how to react or what to do, but Clint extends his hand, introduces himself, and Steve falls back to his cover easily.

Only... Clint's now pressed against his side and Steve panics for a full thirty seconds before he offers his help. And then wonders how to avoid more awkward silence. Buck's always said his mouth will be the death of him. It doesn't disappoint tonight either, because when Steve opens it, flirting words flow freely out of it.

But Clint's enjoying it, responding in kind, and Steve lets himself have fun.

It's been lonely lately. After the battle of New York, when the Avengers were all battered and tired, Steve connected with them the same way he connected with the Commandos. It sparked his hope. However, they all needed to heal. Tony and Clint were the most affected and Steve found himself wandering aimlessly until Nat sent him here. She said it would be the best way to learn about the current culture, at least for a year or two before coming back to the fight full time. Fury hasn't been shy in letting Steve know he is wanted at SHIELD as an agent.

So now, a couple of months after school started, Steve is surrounded by new friends, which, as nice as they are, don't really know him. Having Clint here is a relief.

~

The evening stretches on. Clint wins at darts, again, but this time Grant put up a much better fight than the rest of the grads. By midnight the kids are nicely buzzed and well fed, and Clint follows them out to make sure they get to their rooms safely.

And that's how he ends up under a faint streetlight, with Grant, in front of the grad dorm. His eyes are too blue, too sparkling, breath puffing out in the cold night air. Clint feels dizzy and he hasn't even had one beer.

Ok, maybe Jay was onto something and they did make a good move by setting Clint up. He swallows, draws breath, trying to come up with a good line when Grant leans in to whisper in Clint's ear.

"I hope you don't mind I'm here," he says. "Nat convinced me I should finish my degree and I guess, um..."

Aw, Nat. Clint takes a step back, pushing the thought of kissing out of his head as quickly as possible. He grins, not really feeling it.

"Just don't blow my cover," Clint says with a pat to Rogers' arm.

He walks away as fast as he can without running, heart pounding in his chest. Because, one, this was his safe haven, how dare Natasha; and two, he can't believe he's been spent all night pressed against Captain America, flirting. With Rogers, who Tony calls old fashioned and grampa and believes to be innocence incarnate. Well, Clint's just seen another side of him tonight.

~

Steve's heart pounds in his chest as he watches Clint walk away. What just--

He's upset with himself that he upset Clint and he makes his way a little numbly into the dorm. He locks the door and collapses on his bed, then spends a long while staring at the ceiling.

Clint was smiling the entire night. Then Steve had to fuck it all up. The heavy rhythm of his heart hasn't stopped and Steve presses his palm against his chest. He really doesn't want to lose Clint's friendship.

His fears are confirmed two days later when, as promised, he joins Clint grocery shopping for the barbecue. Clint's chatty self is quiet and grumpy the entire morning and Steve finds himself trailing along in awkward silence through isles of food, trying to think of a way to fix this.

~

"You're upset I'm here," Rogers says as Clint flops hamburgers on the grill.

Everyone else is giving them a wide berth. They're not very inconspicuous in their efforts to give Barry time with Grant. Too bad nothing will come of it.

"Look, I'll transfer. I'm sorry."

With a sigh, Clint rubs at his face. "Don't," he says and looks at Rogers for the first time since Thursday night. "You don't have to do that. Just don't blow it for me, ok?"

Rogers is way too solemn as he nods. Jay squints her eyes at them and Clint elbows him.

"Stop with the serious face, Rogers, go back to flirting."

There's a pause as Clint turns his attention to the grill, but then Rogers leans in, close enough that Clint can feel his breath on the lobe of his ear. "If you call me Steve. Or Grant."

Awman. Clint shudders against his will, but that puts a huge grin on Jay's face. It seems to amuse Rogers as well. No, Steve. Fine, two can play this game.

"Please," he nudges Steve a little, "don't come closer. The grill is hot enough already."

The smile that Steve turns to him is so wide, brightest than Clint's ever seen on the Captain before, that it sends a pang through his chest.

Tsk, dummy. Clint sighs.

~

Steve's utterly amazed by this side of Clint. He was never this relaxed in New York, and it might be because that was immediately after Loki scrambled his mind, but Steve doubts it. From what he's overheard from other SHIELD agents, Clint has a reputation for his awful sense of humor and being as unapproachable as Natasha. He keeps his distance.

Here, in this world, Barry Franks has a smile and a supportive comment at the ready for the grads. Not just for them. A few times Steve watched him walk around with first years on campus until they got the lay of the land. Barry feeds the three cats of the science building every day and gets roped into volunteering for school activities despite his protests.

"Grant."

And he's smart. Like Tony levels of smart. In New York, Clint kept pretending not to be; he even fooled Steve in the beginning. He figured out Clint's just as good a strategist as Steve is, but this... this is entirely on a whole different level. He hasn't been this impressed by someone since he met Peggy.

"Gra-ant."

Ah, heck.

No, it can't be. Can it? Nah.

"Grant!"

"What!" Steve barks, almost jumping out of his skin.

Jay tilts her head. "Been calling you for a while."

"Whoa, dude, you've got some _serious_ talent," Sandra says and the sketchbook under Steve's hands is snatched away before he can stop it.

"Hey, that's Barry," Jay says as she crowds closer to look, while Kelly does the same on Sandra's other side. "You drew him like that arrow guy Avenger," she grins.

Sandra snickers, turns the page, and-- "Why is Barry naked?"

"I don't think he has this much muscle," Jay comments.

Steve snaps his mouth shut when he realizes he's been opening and closing it without words coming out.

Kelly snaps her fingers, pointing at Steve. "You're crushing on him! Hell, yeah," and shares a fistbump with Jay while Sandra walks around the other two to sit at the table next to Steve. Around them, the cafeteria is quiet in the post-lunch haze.

"It's not what you think," Steve finally says and snatches the pad back. "And it's rude to look at people's drawings."

"Psh," Jay says. "How about some tea?"

Steve is left alone with his thoughts for a few minutes before the girls return with tea and Alex, one of Clint's own doctoral students, who is brought up to date regarding the doodling and the crushing. Steve glares, ineffectively.

As much as he doesn't want to, he has to admit they're right, at least to himself. But this doesn't mean he has to agree with them out loud as well.

"It's not what you think," he repeats.

"But the flirting," Kelly counters. "You guys have some serious game going on."

"It's just innocent fun," he says.

Sandra snorts and Steve shakes his head at her.

"Look," Steve raises his hands. "Barry doesn't like me that way. He just wants you guys to stop trying to set him up, so we're flirting. And I'm helping."

"So you basically pretend not to like him by pretending to like him," Kelly concludes.

"I, uh, what?"

"Seems to me like you need help with your crush on Barry," Sandra says and Jay nods solemnly.

Steve would be taking a step back right now if he weren't sitting.

"I know," Alex chimes in. "Let's send him on the coffee runs. Barry loves his coffee."

"True," comes back in unison and everyone nods.

Steve shivers.

~

"Ok, but you like him," Vic says as he taps at the keyboard in rapid succession.

Clint glares at him, but it passes unnoticed. They're under a deadline and need to write a paper, fast. Vic's student visa is under scrutiny. Why, is beyond Clint, it shouldn't be, because his grad students, one of which is Vic, are financed from his own sources. But apparently there's a committee that wants to see progress once in a while. Clint shrugs internally. Vic is brilliant as a physicist, but the worst when it comes to publishing.

"As I said, it's not like that."

"But you like him," Vic insists. Then adds a massive swear in Russian when he sees the results of the simulation that just ended. Clint regrets letting Nat teach him all those swear words.

"Try resetting this vector at each iteration," Clint points at the screen.

Vic complies and the sim starts again.

"What is like, then?" he asks. "He likes you, for sure."

Dammit. Clint thought he had Vic distracted. He hangs his head. "He's just flirting, nothing serious. It's a game."

"But you like him."

Clint groans. "I will strangle you."

It just makes Vic grin victoriously. Wolfishly. "Kelly says he's having a hero crush on you, that's why he pretends to pretend to--" Vic frowns. "It sounded better when she explained it."

With a push against the floor, Clint rolls his chair away. It doesn't go very far, because the space is cramped. Those two inches are not enough to distance himself from the conversation, but it's a start.

"Sandra and Jay both saw him doodle in his notebook--"

"Sketchbook," Clint corrects.

"Sketchbook," Vic adjusts, "all these little drawings of cute professor."

"You think I'm cute," Clint retorts with an exaggerated leer and an eyebrow wiggle, hoping to get Vic distracted enough to back off. But no such luck.

"We all think you're cute, why do you think we put up with you?"

"I thought it was for all the free food," Clint mutters.

"That too."

A ping signals the end of the simulation and the results are better than expected, so their entire focus is now caught by the research.

~

Clint loses sight of everything for the next week. He hasn't worked this intensely on a paper in years. But it changes a lot of unproved suppositions. Even if the application field is super narrow, mainly dealing with cold fusion in the Stark reactor, Clint's too excited.

A knock on his door startles him enough to make him drop his pen. He calls a 'yeah' while checking for coffee in his mug.

Gah, empty.

But hey. Fresh aroma of awesome dark bitterness. He snatches the coffee Steve extends without a second thought.

Steve. Is here. While Clint's still wearing yesterday's clothes. He rubs at his chin. He hasn't drooled at least. Wait, what is Steve doing here?

"Jay sent me with coffee. Said you and Vic are spending the nights here."

He turns and gives Clint's office sofa a reproaching look. Poor sofa.

"You're stressing Alex out."

Clint flaps his hand. "Psh, Alex has her new laser to play with."

"Yes," Steve says. "You suddenly buying that expensive piece of equipment she doesn't need is concerning. I think you need to take a break. Get some sleep."

"I sleep," Clint counters. But Steve smiles at him, unbelieving, which makes Clint scoff. "You're lucky you're pretty."

"Wow," Steve starts, frowning, but Clint reaches over his desk and presses his mouth over Steve's--

What. Palm. He presses _his palm._ Oh, thank fuck it's his palm. Where was he... ah.

"You're also very smart. Smarter than Tony."

Steve pulls Clint's hand away and the nice smile is back. "Nobody's smarter than Tony."

"You are, at strategy," Clint counters.

Is that-- is Steve blushing? Ngh. It gives Clint warm fuzzies.

"Warm fuzzies?" Steve asks.

"What."

"Ok, time to go home. Rest."

Clint would like to disagree. But then again Steve is so gentle and warm and he makes a good leaner-on-person-thing. To lean on.

~

Steve caved and is now the go-to guy for sending after Clint. Or Barry, as it is, because this side of Clint is apparently distracted enough to lose sight of taking care of himself.

It's not that Steve minds, on the contrary. He likes bringing Clint pastries and making sure he doesn't spend too many nights at school. It's just... one of these days Steve will slip up and do something stupid and Clint will be upset again and everything will be ruined.

He takes a deep breath.

"I _don't_ wanna kiss him, I don't wanna _kiss_ him, I don't wanna kiss him," he mutters to himself like a mantra before knocking at Clint's door.

There's a bang and rapid footsteps before the knob turns. Clint's hair is sticking at odd angles, and he blinks blearily, but he's already grinning.

"Baby," Clint tells the coffee cup Steve extends. "Been waiting for you," and he snatches the drink while ignoring Steve completely.

With a sigh, Steve makes his way in after Clint, chastising his treacherous heart for skipping a beat at the endearment. It's not for him. Clint just loves coffee. But then, after Steve makes pancakes and they turn on the Saturday morning cartoons, Clint falls back asleep with his head on Steve's shoulder, a whispered thanks, and a nice smile on his lips. Worth it.

~

Ever since Steve took Clint home for a necessary rest, he's been dropping by, both at the office and home. He brings food, mostly, or coffee. Even tea once, but Clint glared at him until he drank it all himself.

He's fun company. Not at all as stuck up as Tony thinks he is, but Clint already knew that. He laughs with his entire body when he does, comments like a little shit, gets angry over social issues. He is a real human being with real flaws and real gentleness.

So it doesn't help Clint one bit. See, the grads got it wrong. It's _Clint_ who's always had a sort of a worshiping admiration for Steve. Not Captain America, but _Steve Rogers._ The little guy that had the guts to go through all those obstacles to get what he wanted. The idea that someone out there succeeded helped Clint a lot when he was younger, when the world seemed to come crushing down. It's partly why he went and got himself a PhD. Because he wanted to prove to himself he could, just like Steve could all those years ago.

Now Clint is here, against all odds, with the man himself.

His admiration turned into affection.

Those sweet pangs turned into butterflies.

And Clint is so, _so fucked._ It's more than a crush, he knows it, but there's nothing to do. Steve's not into him, not like that, and Clint doesn't want to ruin their friendship. He also keeps telling himself that Grant is a student and Barry mooning over a student is wrong. When that doesn't hold water, he reminds himself this is Captain America and Clint isn't sure if that makes him patriotic or not. Which sends him into giggles and he momentarily forgets.

~

Christmas vacation is quiet, but only because Clint bought all the plane tickets so that the grads can go visit their families. Which makes it lonely.

Also, this cold he caught is not helping. Not at all. With a cough, he shuffles to open the front door, muttering at the incessant knocking. Steve is there and Clint makes a good impression of a fish out of water until Steve squeezes by and makes a beeline toward the kitchen. He drops grocery bags on the counter and a duffel on the floor.

"Why do you have a duffel bag?" Clint asks.

"The dorm closed for winter break."

Huh. Makes sense, to carry his belongings. "Why do you have shopping bags?" So many bags. Clint almost giggles. Aw, cold medicine.

"Making us dinner. And before you ask, I'm going to stay here and take care of you."

"I wasn't gonna ask," Clint's mouth says without his brain, because his brain is busy with thoughts of dinner. He's been too run down to go out for groceries.

"Great, we have a deal," Steve says.

Wait, what?

Clint eats the best chicken soup that night. He doesn't cry, but he almost chokes on his own spit again, because nobody makes him soup anymore, not since he was seven and mom was still alive.

~

It was a gamble coming here, Steve knows. He can't figure out how Jay managed to convince him to invite himself at Clint's for the entire winter break, but here he is, and now he's glad he did so. Clint's been very happy about the soup, at least, and Steve warms at the way Clint let him get close in these past weeks.

Steve lowers a sleeping Clint in bed before pressing the back of his hand on Clint's forehead. Not too hot, the medicine should be working by morning. He gives in and caresses the side of Clint's face before pressing a quick peck onto his cheek.

That's when Clint's eyelids flutter open and Steve almost panics, but Clint mumbles something gripping at Steve's arms. He's probably dreaming.

"Get back to sleep," Steve whispers, trying to push Clint's hands away.

It's ineffective, because Clint pulls and pulls until Steve almost collapses on top of him. Not good. Clint mumbles something else and it sounds a lot like 'need you,' sending Steve's heart in a frenzy.  _ So not good. _

"Clint, gotta let me go," Steve tries.

"Don't wanna," comes back, followed by a whispered "please" that tightens around Steve's chest.

Heck.  _ Hell! _

"All right, all right," he agrees, "just gonna take a quick shower and be back," and Clint lets him go.

He has time to consider what he's doing while hot water runs down his back. Now that Clint's asleep, he doesn't have to go back there, but Steve's not that strong.

So he drags a pair of sweats on, then climbs into bed.

It's the best decision, because Clint wraps himself around Steve while Steve gets to hold him tightly and pretend this is real.

~

His pillow is warm and Clint hugs it closer to himself. His throat feels better, head less foggy. Whatever Steve fed him last night was amazing.

Soup. It was soup. So good. Maybe there's still some left for breakfast. After coffee. Some of that would be good now. And some toothpaste. Ugh. Colds are fucking gross. With a groan, Clint buries his face further into the pillow. The pillow moves and Clint follows it.

"That tickles."

Silly pillow. The bed is very warm today. Mm, coffee. Warm coffee would be good. In the warm bed.

"If you let me go, I'll make you coffee."

Clint never had a pillow that makes him coffee. It's a pillow he could keep forever. Low laughter vibrates through Clint's cheekbone and it makes everything even more floaty.

"Clint."

Mm.

"Hey. Open your eyes."

Nn.

There's a touch to his forehead that travels down his cheek and rests on his shoulder for a bit before moving his hands away from his warm pillow and around a cold one.

Ngh.

"Don't worry, I'll be back."

Clint sniffles and lets himself swim against the sensation of looseness in his muscles that only a deep sleep gets him. It's been too long.

The aroma of fresh coffee drifts in and Clint reaches for it.

That's when he sees Steve.

In a pair of sweatpants.

Holding two mugs of coffee.

Did Clint mention the sweatpants? 'Cos there's nothing else on Steve.

"Finally," Steve says. "Good morning."

Hng.

~

Breakfast was amazing. Eggs and toast and tomatoes. There was also the promise of more soup, but only if Clint ate the eggs first.

And then they topped it with Clint's most awkward conversation of ever. No, actually, the most blundering since he had to explain to Fury why Nat was still alive, but that was only because of the alligator and the arrow sticking out of Nat's shoulder. Not the alligator, that one was out of the line of fire. Safe and unharmed.

Clint is getting sidetracked. So the talk with Steve was the most uncoordinated mouth to brain collaboration. But Clint now knows that nothing happened last night other than Clint going octopus on Steve-- no, that sounds weird.

He needs more coffee, so he refills his mug, staring at the pot longingly.

Clint is not sure if he's relieved or disappointed that nothing happened. But hey, on the bright side, he has the rest of the winter vacation to figure out why Steve gave up his break to look after Clint's cold riddled self.

~

Clint sniffles and sips more of the wonderful soup. They're sitting on the sofa watching mid afternoon cartoons in complete silence and utter comfort. All that's missing is a dog curled up between them and a shared bank account.

Aw, brain. Clint rolls his eyes at himself internally. He is not married to Steve Rogers. No.

Steve reaches over and pulls the blanket to cover Clint's feet. Clint may or may not whine.

"So why aren't you going to New York for Christmas?" Clint asks. "I'm sure Tony'll love to have you."

"Why aren't you?"

"Killed a bunch of people," he mutters before slurping noisily.

"Hey," Steve says, snapping his fingers, "so did I."

Clint shoves the spoon in his mouth and leaves it there. Steve shakes his head at him.

"Do you really want the patriotic speech?"

"That's not all I want from you," Clint jokes with a wink.

It earns him a smile. Not a laugh, nor a grin, but a smile, twirling around his insides like a swarm of butterflies. Steve scoots closer and Clint returns to eating, hoping his blush is not visible.

"You know it's not your fault," Steve says quietly, serious and genuine.

"Yeah," Clint rasps. "It's just... y'know."

"Yeah," Steve echoes.

He sits there staring at his hands while Clint drinks his soup directly from the bowl.

"I love this," he says, pointing at the food and there it is. The smile is back and Clint's heart skips a beat.

"I love cooking," Steve returns, leaning closer to bump their shoulders together.

"Never would've pegged you for--"

Steve's phone rings on the coffee table.

"It's Nat," Steve says, but that's not necessary, because Clint can recognize Nat's emergency number anywhere.

~

Clint snatches the cough drop from Steve's extended hand as they both watch the Avengers, everyone but Thor, sitting around the table. The flight over made his throat worse and gave him a headache. No puppy eyes will work, mister, not after convincing Clint to join Steve in New York.

Turns out there's a hostage situation that involves an unholy amount of explosives and a lot of people sequestered in a mall.

Bruce is staying behind to monitor through feeds provided by JARVIS. The situation is too delicate for the Hulk and Bruce is the first one to request staying out of this one. Tony takes a bit of convincing, but he agrees to work his tech magic from the shadows.

Which leaves Clint, Nat, and Steve to infiltrate.

Clint twirls a tranquilizing arrow while studying the plans. Nat smirks at him and he glares. Ugh. Now she knows. How does she do it... Steve pushes a cup of steaming coffee in front of Clint before taking a seat to go over the plans.

All right. That's how she knows. At least Tony hasn't noticed.

~

Nat corners Steve when they're on their way to the quinjet. Clint's somewhere ahead, not looking very good despite feeling better this morning. Steve's been trying to take his temperature, but Nat's been glaring at him.

"Why did you bring him here?" Nat asks. "He looks like crap."

Uh... this is not what he expected. Actually, he's not sure what he expected. After all, Nat's the one to send him where Clint was. Steve opens his mouth, but air sticks to his throat at the sight over Nat's shoulder.

Clint draws an arrow from his quiver, swaying, but before he can nock it, he collapses. Steve's there in two leaps, heart pounding against his ribs.

There are people around, shouting, rushing,  _ doing things. _

And all Steve can do is shake, frozen into place. Nat tells him Clint is in good hands, but there are hostages who need them. Nat speaks and Steve listens and suddenly the world fades.

They have a mission.

~

She's unapologetic and Steve can't find it in himself to be mad at Nat. One of her skills is to get people to do her bidding and she got Steve to go rescue those innocent people. It's what Clint would've wanted, for Steve to finish the mission instead of waiting for the doctors. Nat hands him a cup of hot tea and Steve sips it carefully.

The clock on the wall shows 2AM. His skin itches, even though he took a shower when he got back.

The doc said it's just a nasty strain of flu. They have Clint on medicine and fluids and they already brought his temperature down. All they have to do now is wait. Steve shouldn't be here, but this isn't a regular hospital, it's the Stark Tower, and Pepper got them to let him stay in Clint's room.

"I should've seen how sick he was," he says.

Nat shrugs from across the bed where she sits in the other chair. Between them, Clint's breathing is wheezy, but steady.

"He always downplays it," she returns. "That's why you have to learn to read him better, especially now."

"Now?"

"That you're together," she says.

"We're not--" Steve starts, but the pointed look she gives him makes him snap his mouth shut. "Fine," he admits. "But he doesn't--" Another look. Steve swallows.

Nat leaves without further comment. So she thinks that Clint maybe, perhaps... but she's wrong, isn't she?

~

The mission almost goes haywire five minutes in because Clint's dizzy and he even has a fever. He hasn't had a fever since... he doesn't know anymore.

Everything aches.

"Wh'r'y fr'n'ng?"

What's wrong with his tongue--

"He's awake," Steve says.

Aw, smile. Clint loves that smile. L'ves Steeb.

~

Steve inhales carefully while a couple of nurses and a doctor check on Clint. He's back asleep soon, though, and Steve can't help pacing the room, replaying the mumbling in his head. That is, until he's kicked out because he can't sit still, so he grabs breakfast, hope swelling in him so fast, that he can't stifle it anymore.

Clint said he loves him. And Steve trembles with it.

~

So Clint collapsed before the mission started. The hostages are safe, the explosives confiscated, baddies in lock up. All is good, except for Clint's dignity. Apparently his cold was of the flu variety.

"He spent the entire night here waiting for you to wake up," Nat says.

"He didn't," Clint frowns.

"Yes. He did."

"Why?"

Nat rolls her eyes but Clint stands his ground. She stares and Clint cracks way too fast. He's sick, though, he can be excused. Her smile is as satisfied as it is knowing.

"I told him to take you back after they release you," she says.

"Nat--"

"Clint."

Clint slides down the bed and pulls the covers over his head. She's right. He really needs to talk to Steve, nip this in the bud. Rip it off before it grows roots. He's mixing his metaphors, but whatever. Clint's in love, about to go home with the object of his affection, confess his love, and be rejected. Then spend New Year's on his own.

~

The house is cold when they return, covered in a nice layer of snow. Clint sinks into the sofa while Steve turns on the heat. A blanket is dropped on Clint and soon the sofa dips next to him.

He should start. Say something. Instead, Clint twists and turns until he can snake his arms around Steve's middle and rest his head on Steve's leg. Fingers run through Clint's hair soothingly and Clint closes his eyes.

"Do you remember what you said to me when you woke up in medical?"

Clint hums. "Hey, Steve?"

"No, before that, when you first woke up."

That's strange, Clint only-- he _did_ have a dream of Steve smiling.

Ack!

He flails, trying to free himself from his hold on Steve and the blanket's hold on Clint. He almost slides to the floor, but Steve catches him and helps him resettle on the sofa before turning to face him. Clint slumps sideways into the backrest.

"So it's true."

Clint closes his eyes and nods. Nothing happens for a few seconds, Steve doesn't move. Clint expects him to at least sit up if not walk out completely. Instead, Steve's hand wraps around Clint's shoulder and Steve leans in.

"Same here," Steve whispers and Clint shivers.

When he looks up, Steve's smile is back. Clint matches it and it widens.

_ Aw, heart. _

It happens from one heartbeat to the next, their lips find each other and time stops. Everything is slow and soft and it's not just the lingering effect of the medicine.

When they part, Clint's lips are numb. Steve's are puffy and Clint finds himself running his thumb over Steve's regrowing beard.

"My face is red isn't it?"

Steve smirks. "I'll get you some ointment."

"Smartass."

"Thank you, professor."

"Nuh-huh," Clint shakes his head. Steve grins. "Don't even think about it."

Steve's laugh is full and contagious and delightful.

~

Clint stretches in his desk chair.

He's been back for an entire day. Actually  _ they've  _ been back for an entire day. It's almost the end of the second semester, the summer already settling in, and Steve suggested they take a break from their two months of back to back missions by returning to uni. Steve likes it here as much as Clint does. The grads have welcomed them with open arms. They're  _ home. _

And now--

His office door opens with a bang and Vic rushes in.

"Barry! You won't believe! Stark read our paper and he's coming here to meet you!"

Aw, paper.

~

~End~

 


End file.
